Drink Me
by treacle-antlers
Summary: A spell intended for Giles goes awry and leaves the entire Scooby gang 'incapacitated'. Giles, Spike and Anya must try their best to cope, and together hopefully find a cure. NOW COMPLETE
1. Drink Me

The alarm should have woken him but it hadn't.  
  
Sleep-filled eyes cracked open and focused muzzily on the flashing LED display,  
  
00.00 ampm  
  
00.00 ampm  
  
00.00 ampm  
  
Took a little longer than he usually would to realise that there had obviously been a powercut in the night. Not so unusual because...oh God, and a hand went reflexively to his face to cover his eyes. He was back in Sunnydale again.  
  
Sunnydale, California. Hellmouth Capital of the Western World and Official Sponsor of Weirdness and Terror for the Entire Globe. Also, due to the massively high number of underground-dwelling demons, a town with almost constantly disrupted public services. Massaging his temples he tried to recollect the terribly urgent matter that had summoned him, yet again, this wearisome and lengthy distance from his wonderfully relaxing home in the Bath countryside. Was Dawn in trouble again? Or was it a Rosenberg Relapse? It surely had to have been something apocalyptic, so why was he having trouble remembering?  
  
And then it came to him. An icy-cold chill and his eyes were snapped wide open, staring into the dimness of his hotel room in sudden horror. No, let it all be a nightmare. But the black tuxedo hanging on the back of his door only confirmed it.  
  
Oh God. The Wedding.  
  
He tried to suppress the terrible feelings of foreboding that immediately washed through him again, but it was impossible. Ever since they had called and told him the wonderful news he had felt sick to his stomach. He knew he must have said all the right things though, because Anya had laughed and cried and thanked him profusely and politely. Then Xander had come on the line and said almost exactly the same things, only his voice had been a great deal less piercing and easier to listen to. And before he knew it, he'd heard himself making all kinds of promises to him, to them. Of course he'd be able to make it this time. Of course he'd pay for the flowers again. Of course he'd be proud to walk Anya down the aisle.  
  
Afterwards, the last one had been the real shocker and he still couldn't believe he'd said yes to it. Although, he supposed, it might have been flattering, if Anya hadn't felt moved to promptly follow her request with the cheery; 'It's supposed to someone old apparently. And a man. And you're the only old man we know...that's human.' Yes. All in all, they hadn't exactly sold it as an honour, so much as a Herculean task. He was to be their anchor-man, ensuring that the day went smoothly this time. They had entrusted him with absolutely everything, from the decorations to making sure the notary arrived on time. The other Scoobies were officially out of the loop, the ceremony and small gathering afterwards being a meticulously planned surprise for all of them. It was a significant decision and one that the two of them had not made lightly. A great deal of thought had been put into the seriousness and the gravity of this second, and hopefully final, ceremony and, as Xander had so eloquently put it: 'If this gets screwed up for her a second time, I think we're all gonna be scraping our entrails off the pulpit'. Yes, tomorrow was to be a day of celebration. The start of two wonderful and deserving peoples' future together, one in which they had both come a long way, both spiritually and emotionally. And he was pleased for them. Really he was. It was just himself he felt horribly sorry for.  
  
Sliding out of bed, he stretched his arms above his head a little stiffly, stood and regarded himself in the full length mirror. Almost unconsciously he sucked in the slight belly he was starting to develop. Ran a hand through his pepper coloured hair and tilted his head to one side, emphasising his well-defined cheekbones. Old man indeed.  
  
Breaking into his thoughts, the maid's knock at the door alerted him to the fact that it must be at least ten a.m. He groaned inwardly, as he remembered the couple's precisely organised schedule for him had now gone completely awry. He was supposed to have taken a cheque to the caterers at nine thirty, as well as which he'd offered to meet up with Anya and Xander at the Magic Shop around eleven, to finalise their plans for the surprise. Quickly pulling his bathrobe on, he opened the door to take his fresh towels from the maid before hastening to the bathroom for a necessarily fast, cold shower. Shook his head irritably as he slapped open the faucet.  
  
Just one day back in Sunnydale and already he was in a state of panic.  
  
********************  
  
The hire car was an automatic, and that was just the beginning of it. It was bright, fuchsia pink  
  
"Don't you have anything else?"  
  
The woman's smile was so wide and bright, he was eerily reminded of a particularly bad waxwork of Princess Di he once seen. He briefly considered the fact that she might be some kind of demon. She was obviously evil, that much was certain.  
  
"I'm sorry sir, but your email expressly requested a 'compact car'."  
  
He gritted his teeth, feeling his mood swing dangerously towards homicidal.  
  
"I telephoned. And if I'd asked for Barbie's bloody dune-buggy I think I'd remember, don't you?"  
  
But it was no good. He'd seen this particular brand of customer service a million times before in this God forsaken country. The whiter-than-white smile and the fuck-you-sir eyes. America, where the Consumer was King. Scraped the keys from the desk and turned on his heel without another word, snarling softly. Give me a surly Cockney any day.  
  
That had been the start of it but it certainly wouldn't be the end. The caterers had taken his cheque without a word and then proceeded to explain that the cake would perhaps be just a little late arriving. How late they weren't prepared to say but there was a chance, just a chance mind you, that it wouldn't be there for the reception party. This was a worst case scenario of course, everything would undoubtedly be fine. But on the off- chance that it wasn't? They were prepared to throw in all the crab puffs, completely free of charge.  
  
He wasn't even going to rise to that one. A flat-out threat of physical violence seemed to have had the required effect, and he'd left the little man cowering in terror behind his flour bins before departing in a sufficiently impressive dark swirl of cashmere. He liked to think that his exit had been only slightly marred by his method of transportation. Swatting the bubblegum, pink hatchback into Drive he peeled away from the kerb with a squeal of tyres and rejoined the morning traffic.  
  
God, he hated Sunnydale.  
  
********************  
  
Anya's VW Rabbit was in his space. And Xander's new, sleek, silver monstrosity was in their only customer space. Bristling silently as he realised that he'd have to find a parking spot in the street instead, like any normal guest in town. At least the Barbiemobile was simple to manoevre in confined areas and he edged it back out with relative ease. The rear spoiler had just cleared the entrance to the alley when a sharp shriek of brakes brought his head round in sudden alarm. Rolling the window down he started to address the occupant of the dark van with a friendly, apology.  
  
"I'm..er...I'm terribly sorry...I didn't see you c...."  
  
before tailing off into frozen disbelief.  
  
A familiar face stared back at him from behind the tinted glass, and for a second it was as if the man was simply mirroring his expression, making fun of him. His eyes wide with surprise and alarm as he took in the astonished expression of his old friend. Slowly though, Giles felt a cold anger suffuse him, his lips silently forming a name, even before his voice began to speak it.  
  
"Ethan."  
  
What in hell was he doing here?  
  
His hand went to the door handle and in the same moment Ethan moved. His head went down, slamming the vehicle into reverse and haring, violently backwards in a swirl of smoke and screaming gears. Giles started to run after him, but within seconds the van had reached the end of the street and turned headlong into traffic, horns frantically blaring as he turned and shot sideways, the wrong way across an intersection.  
  
Choking on the exhaust fumes Rupert watched the dark shape disappear, shading his eyes as he tried to understand what Ethan Rayne had been doing here. More importantly, how he had been here, when the last he'd heard the Military had had him locked up tighter than the crown jewels. Rubbed a hand through his hair as he realised the probable source of his earlier feelings of foreboding.  
  
"He cut you up or something?"  
  
Caught completely off guard, Giles was unable to stop himself from starting in alarm at the sound of the voice at his shoulder, although it was almost instantly recognisable. The grin formed even before he'd had time to recover himself.  
  
"Sorry, mate. Didn't mean to give you a heart attack."  
  
Spike. He should have guessed he'd be hanging around somewhere out here. Wanting to be near Buffy, near her friends, whilst still remaining invisible. Narrowing his eyes Giles studied the vampire's face with dispassionsate curiosity, and watched as his expression changed from his usual smirking superiority to a odd discomfort. He dropped his gaze and, taking a pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket, he lit one and inhaled deeply.  
  
"They told you then?"  
  
Giles felt a stir of surprise at his tone. Nervousness was not an emotion he usually associated with Spike either. But then the sudden addition of a soul could do strange things to a vampire's personality.  
  
"Yes. They did."  
  
And to say he had been surprised would have been an ridiculous understatement. For a vampire to willingly seek out the restoration of his soul was something that was unheard of. There was no precedent, a fact he was certain of, as he had been secretly combing the Council's records ever since Buffy had told him of Spike's recent...acquisition. It was completely bizarre, but, when the initial surprise had finally worn off and he was left alone with his thoughts, he had realised something odd. If ever there had been one vampire who would do such a thing, that vampire was Spike. Dogmatic was, after all, his middle name. Looking at him now Giles was surprised that he didn't look, physically, any different. His hair was still that ridiculous eighties, bleach blonde, the clothes were still verging on the Matrix-ian, although the duster was now notably absent. He was still smoking and, he was certain, drinking hard. And still head over heels in love with Buffy. Another little nugget of information she'd thought to provide him with.  
  
Silently fighting an urge to grab the creature roughly by the lapels and demand to know his intentions were honourable, Rupert instead silently moved away and began walking back towards the rear entrance of the Magic Box.  
  
"That's it?!"  
  
Giles rolled his eyes, refusing to look at him,  
  
"I'm not quite sure what you expect me to say."  
  
The vampire started to follow him, but then stopped suddenly when he realised where the other man was headed, his voice growing suddenly high pitched with annoyance.  
  
"Oh...right! That's right!! Should have known....the soul doesn't make any more difference to you than it does to her. Once a vampire, always a vampire, right Watcher?"  
  
For a moment irritation briefly overcame his need to check on everyone's safety and Giles turned around to face him, eyes narrowing to cool, grey slits. Spike's face was almost childishly mutinous, pain and anger showing in every line as he stood hunched, sheltering in the alley shadows.  
  
"You are still a vampire. But in answer to your question, yes. Your having a soul does make a difference. It means that as well as choosing a lifestyle of incomparable brutality, incredible cruelty, deviousness and violence, you are now also capable of choosing the opposite. But so far I haven't seen any sign of that. All I see is you still looking for a way to get to Buffy."  
  
Angrily forming a retort Spike started to speak, but Giles cut him off before he could begin.  
  
"If you want Buffy to start treating you like a person, then I suggest you begin acting like one."  
  
And with that he opened the door to the Magic Box and let himself inside.  
  
********************  
  
For a moment he couldn't hear a sound and the fear rose in him like cold water, filling his legs first and then rising quickly to engulf him. Ethan. What had he done to them?  
  
Then a laugh.  
  
Buffy's laugh. A bright, happy sound then sent a surge of relief to his brain, sent him almost running across the training room to greet her. Her eyes turned to him, full of surprise and then amazed delight, her lips and small hands wrapped around a huge mug of steaming coffee.  
  
"Giles!!!!!"  
  
And then she was walking to him, trying not to run as well, enfolding him in a little-girl bearhug that would have cracked his ribs if he hadn't been prepared for it. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he felt hot tears prickle behind his eyelids as he took in the heart-breakingly, familiar scene in the shop. Dawn was seated smiling at the research table, a book wide open in front of her, a mug of hot coffee to her right. Willow opposite, in the act of dunking a biscuit, looking much healthier and more cheerful than when he'd seen her off at the airport two months ago. And then the happy couple, Xander's arm wound possessively round Anya's tiny waist, both wearing grins that would shame the Cheshire Cat, both holding enormous great mugs of steaming hot....  
  
"Why is everyone drinking coffee?"  
  
Buffy's grip on Giles loosened a little as she too remembered her drink, took another big gulp before finally letting him go.  
  
"We like coffee!"  
  
Her voice sounded strange, oddly high pitched and Giles suddenly felt his skin begin to crawl. His brain working...working. Ethan Rayne. Ethan Rayne had been here. Etahn Rayne had been in this shop. And now Buffy was acting...oddly. Wait...no...they were all looking...strange. An odd pinkish hue to their cheeks, their eyes brighter than usual. What was going on here? Perhaps they'd all been up terribly late, researching. But still that didn't explain...  
  
"Dawn too? Since when?"  
  
They were all looking at him now, expressions of surprised confusion all round. Anya and Xander raised their mugs simultaneously, draining them. Dawn smiled, cocking her head, as she blew on her's.  
  
"Hey. I'm not a little kid you know? I can drink coffee."  
  
Took a great big swig and smacked her lips,  
  
"Besides. It's delicious."  
  
Something was wrong here. Something was very wrong. In two strides he had made it to the table, lifted up the perculator jug that he couldn't remember having ever seen there before.  
  
"Where did this come from?"  
  
Anya's voice chipped in, so sharp with forced cheeriness that it sounded like one of The Chipmunks.  
  
"The man delivered it this morning. He said you'd ordered it."  
  
"The man?"  
  
"The delivery man."  
  
Taking a step or two towards her, he held out the jug, swirling the contents so she could plainly see the mass of charred, magical herbs at the bottom. Xander leant forward, peering inside,  
  
"Is that a new blend?"  
  
Ethan Rayne. Ethan Rayne. The name beat out a tattoo in his skull, forcing the blood to his temples, bringing on a migraine that threatened to blind him.  
  
"Anya. Did you let the....delivery man make the coffee?"  
  
She smiled, trying gently to take the jug from his hands, a small frown beginning.  
  
"Yes, as a matter of fact. I thought it was probably like one of those vacumn cleaner sales things. A demo! He said he wanted to show me how 'a really good cup of coffee' could make you feel."  
  
Giles's voice took on a flinty quality as he forced her to look at him, forced her to stop pulling on the handle of the jug.  
  
"Anya. Can you remember if he said anything else?"  
  
She pouted, denied, folded her arms.  
  
"Yes. He said 'it's a special roast...just for you'."  
  
"For...you?"  
  
"No, for you. He said he knew you and that you could do with a little...what did he say? A little 'spring in your step again'."  
  
She smiled, pleased that she'd remembered his exact words.  
  
"Now...Giles...don't be such a...can we please have some more?"  
  
Fear was in him now. His eyes darting from one face to the other as he began to see the changes. Dawn was first of course. Tumbling from her seat, her eyes suddenly growing piggy, her face fattening, hair shortening alarmingly. Arms disappearing up into the sleeves of her sweatshirt. A wail like a banshee and Buffy was on the floor too, arms and legs flailing, mouth open in a silent scream.  
  
"Giles! What's happening?"  
  
Anya's fingers gripped his arm in sudden terror, her eyes wild as she stared down at her husband to be. A chubby brown creature, barely reaching her waistband now, huge eyes staring up at them both in amazement.  
  
"G...an...ya!!!"  
  
His voice sounded distorted, horribly choked as he tried to speak, gripping her skirt with one sticky paw.  
  
"Oh God!! Get him...Giles...get it off me!!!"  
  
The last to go was Willow, he wasn't sure why. Maybe she'd just drunk less than the others, or maybe it was her inner magical strength combatting the spell. He could see her eyes glowing as the magicks hit her, powerful, paralysing her even as she fought against it.  
  
"Giles! Help m....."  
  
Her voice rose to a pin sharp whine as she too, fell to the floor, squirming and writhing in pain. Reeling with shock he realised Anya's face was buried in his shoulder, her cries of distress muffled as his arm held her closely, keeping the Xander creature at bay with the hot coffee jug. She seemed strangely unaffected by the potion and he turned her face to the side briefly to check. Tears streaked her cheeks but otherwise she was unchanged. Still Anya.  
  
"Is...is it finished?"  
  
Her voice was tremulous and she clung to him even as he let her go, stepping back to survey the scene before them.  
  
The floor was a mass of bundled clothes and shivering huddled shapes, none of them any bigger than a medium-sized dog. Giles's felt his mouth drop open slightly even as his brow furrowed in a horrified frown.  
  
"Oh...my God."  
  
Anya sounded as if she was about to start up again, her voice only inches from hysteria.  
  
"Oh my God, Giles...what's happened to them? Oh...Giles...who...did this?"  
  
Ethan Rayne. Ethan Rayne. His name was like a poison in his system, a fuel pulsing through him, ready for ignition. So Ethan had missed his old pal had he? Ethan thought he could bring back Ripper just like he was, thought that maybe they'd raise merry hell together? Was that the plan Ethan? Couldn't fight Giles so you thought you'd raise the Ripper.  
  
A stab of guilt as one of them cried out a final time. But this wasn't his fault. There was no way he could have known. Ethan Rayne was to blame. And Ethan Rayne would pay, this time maybe with his life.  
  
A sound behind him sent him spinning on his heel, coffee jug at the ready.  
  
"Jesus! Watch it! Could give a bloke a nasty scald with that!"  
  
Spike stood in the doorway, cigarette hanging from one corner of his mouth, hands firmly thrust into his pockets.  
  
"Look. I know what you're going to say but hear me out."  
  
"Spike..."  
  
"No...listen. You might be right about the...me wanting the soul just to get closer to Buffy an' everything but...well...the thing is..."  
  
He stopped mid flow, arrested by the sight of the creatures covering the floor of the Magic Box. Tousle-haired naked creatures, with great big eyes, open mouths and sticky, tiny little fingers. Watched them for a moment bemused before performing the most theatrical double-take Giles thought he'd ever seen in his entre life.  
  
"Bloody h....!!!"  
  
His eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline as he recognised Buffy's jacket, then more slowly, more incredulously, the tiny, naked, two year-old version of the Slayer he had sworn to love until death.  
  
"Who the hell turned them all into little kiddies!!" 


	2. He Only Does It To Annoy

He had never been good with babies.  
  
Children, now that was another thing entirely. He had always felt privileged to be part of the educational system, albeit a tangential part. The nurturing of impressionable minds, witness to the shaping and sculpting of a developing psyche. Yes, young adults were fascinating, beautiful creatures. Babies on the other hand were quite disgusting.  
  
"She needs burping. You're doing it wrong."  
  
Anya's voice, now quite fully under her control again, had already began to develop a hint of...was it shrewishness? Her familiar, blunt confidence forcing it's way to the fore, as it always seemed to do in times of crisis. Faced with the unknown, she coped. More than that, she man-handled. Took in the situation and then took control, over one-thousand years of street savvy informing her decisions.  
  
"You should shake her, look...like this!"  
  
However, as far as toddlers were concerned, she was a menace. Jolting out of his semi-comatose state Giles strode forward and divested the vengeance demon of her fiance's tiny, wriggling body. Trying not to look too hard at the child's familiar features as he turned him the right way up, he couldn't help but note though how little his voice had changed, still the same guileless, slightly, nasal quality to it,  
  
"G...anya...again! Again!"  
  
just before he violently threw up.  
  
Anya's eyes narrowed, arms crossing defensively as she eyed the steadily widening puddle between them.  
  
"I'm not cleaning that up. That was you. He was just fine until you...twisted him around."  
  
"You were holding him upside down."  
  
"I saw them do it on 60 minutes. And the shaking. Besides, Xander likes being upside down."  
  
"I notice Xander also likes picking out the contents of his ears and wiping it on the cash register, but you soon put a stop to that though, didn't you."  
  
Anya's gaze was cool, condescending, and he felt a sudden almost irrepressible urge to wrench that damned pendant of her's off and stamp on it until it was dust.   
  
"Giles. I think it's fair to say that, of all of us? I'm probably by far the most qualified in this area. Besides which, I'm a woman and therefore, by nature, more capable, so why don't you just leave all the care issues here....to me."  
  
As if she'd understood, the dimpled pink ball that was Dawn suddenly let out a wail of despair, her hands wringing the air in the demented pantomime of an infant who clearly needed a diaper change. A glance at a motionless Anya confirmed his suspicions. She raised her eyebrows, indicating the screaming child and, when he didn't respond immediately, cleared her throat.  
  
"Although I think Dawn's peeing in her pants should be your responsibility."   
  
  
"Hey!!!"  
  
They both turned to look at Spike. Half crouched, half slumped on the floor, he seemed for a second as if he were consumed by some terrible pain, clutching at his back whilst resting his weight forward on his hands.  
  
"When you two have finished the bitching match...I could do with some help here."  
  
The need for assistance wasn't immediately clear, until the tiny Buffy's head appeared directly above his, a hank of white blonde hair firmly clamped between her teeth. Shaking her head from side to side she let out a fierce, primal growl and Spike yelped in pain.  
  
"For God's sake will one of you get her off me?! She might be the size of a bleedin' Chihuahua, but she's still got jaws on her like a Rotweiller."  
  
The temptation to leave her there was delicious, but he couldn't do it. Spike might still be chipped but it would be easy to cause such a little child injury, and the headache that would ensue from such an accident was sure to be a crippling one. A faint smile touched Giles's lips as he watched him squirm under little Buffy's attack. One second thoughts it might teach him some restraint.  
  
"Giles!!!"  
  
Anya's impatient bark bought him round with a start of alarm. Holding a struggling Willow and Xander by their forearms, she instantly brought to mind the haggard, East End housewives of his youth. All she really lacked was the stretch marks.  
  
"I told you before...we can cope. Now, you need to go and try and find that man!"  
  
The man. Right. Ethan Rayne. A quick perusal of a few pertinent volumes and consultation of his exhaustive herbal encyclopaedias, had told him what he pretty much already knew. The spell was irreversible, except by the hand with which it was cast. Ethan Rayne's spell. Ethan Rayne's hand. Gathering a few supplies together Rupert threw them into a bag and grabbed up his coat, but an ominous stickiness on the back made him drop it again with a grimace. Cashmere, why on earth had he chosen to wear Cashmere?  
  
"And what are we supposed to do while you're off...gallivanting? Just hold down the bloody fort I suppose....OOOOwwww!"  
  
Spike's tone was accusatory and for a moment he considered pointing out the damage his person had already incurred, but realised that, in fact, a vomit-stained coat might seem rather petty under the circumstances. Settled instead for his patented cold stare, forgetting of course that Spike was impervious.   
  
"Don't give me that look, mate...it's your sodding mojo-loving pal that got us into this mess. I think it's only fair that you be the one to shoulder the load...so to speak. So how about I....oh...bloody HELL!!"  
  
A well-aimed punch from Buffy had come just at the right moment, and Giles repressed a smirk of satisfaction as he watched Spike crumple to the floor, clutching his severely, bruised balls in mute agony. Nice to see that some things around here hadn't changed. Reaching for his scarf he shot Anya a warning glance.  
  
"Remember, we don't know how much this spell is affecting their mind-states. There's a good chance that they're confused and frightened...."  
  
A high-pitched shriek from Willow seemed to underline his point, until it was followed with,  
  
"You smell...Xander smells! Poooo!!!"  
  
"On top of which we don't know how much of this they'll remember, and their emotions are bound to be fragile at present. You need to be gentle with them..."  
  
A low growl from Spike's throat as Willow's fingers grabbed at him, tugging him out of his fetal position. The last piece of advice was directed specifically towards him.  
  
"And above all...try not to lose your temper."  
  
The vampire's face creased in a frown as he finally gave in, surrendering to the child with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man. Sticky hands tugging at his hair, he glared at Giles reproachfully,  
  
"You know, mate...I've done of lot of terrible things in my life, but I've never hit a kiddie."  
  
A sardonic stare froze the words on his lips, as the Watcher turned imperiously and headed for the door,  
  
"Oh yes, because I'm sure eating them is far less psychologically damaging."  
  
********************  
  
  
It wasn't the first time he had wished for the help of the valuable resource that was The Iniative, and then chastised himself. Traditional methods of detection might be slow but they were, at least eventually, just as effective. Holding the phial of liquid unsteadily in his left hand he poured a little of the mixture out on to the floor, letting it drip within the confines of the circle of sand he had drawn in front of him. A soft hiss and the locator spell began it's work, fuelled by the recent proximity of it's subject.   
  
Ethan was nothing if not a creature of habit, and it was the sudden inspired, recollection of that fact that had finally brought him here, the same 'flea pit' motel that his old friend had set up residence in on all his previous visits. Sure enough the hard-faced matron at reception had recognised the description immediately. Mr Rayne had been here yes, but had checked out a few hours ago, in a hurry. Seemed in terrible rush to be off somewhere but still, he'd remembered to leave a good sized tip. A real gentleman.   
  
Gentleman. Giles had barked an abrupt laugh at that one. Yes, Ethan was a gentleman, well-mannered and courteous. Right up until he stuck the knife in your back, and twisted it.   
  
Sometimes he wondered what sort of malodorous creep he must have been as an adolescent, to have ever broken bread with the wanker. But then the knowledge would return to him and he would sigh in retrospective mortification. That was right. He had been every bit as big a git as Ethan ever had. Poncing about Hampstead Heath at night, wittering on about being 'Lord Of All The Darkness' and as 'great and mighty a sorcerer as Clapham had ever seen'. It would have been laughable if it hadn't been so very, very earnest. Because, unlike so many other teenagers before them and since, they hadn't been playing games. To that small group of naive public school children, the 'powers of darkness' had been all too real and when the darkness had finished playing it's games with them? It had reached out and swallowed them whole. All dead now. Every last one. All except Ethan. And himself.  
  
The smoke sputtered and glowed white and he saw the path start to appear, the circle that was Sunnydale came into focus, tendrils of light spreading out from his location to show the route that Rayne had taken, and where he now lay. So. Still nearby. Always unable to help himself from watching the mayhem spread, a true child of chaos. Climbing to his feet, Giles heard his joints crackle in protest and let out a groan.   
  
He was just one man. One man with no real means of defence and, what was more, no Ibuprofen. Squinting down at the slowly, dispersing magic he rubbed at his temple with the heel of one hand and made a decision. Ethan wasn't going anywhere at present and he would feel a great deal happier facing him, holding something large and potentially fatal, preferably with a glittering blade. Come to think of it, he knew just the weapon.  
  
********************  
  
Revello Drive was a familiar friend although one that always seemed tinged with sadness now when he saw her. So many had been lost. The porch of 1620 glowed with light and he smiled as he remembered the smell of the hallway. The warm, comforting aroma of Joyce's weekly pot-roast or, occasionally, Dawn's experimental breakfasts.   
  
Parking the offensive hire-car at the kerb he paused for a moment before continuing up the path, feeling in his inside pocket for the spare key he kept there. Just a few moments to regroup himself here, retool from Buffy's arsenal and then he would be on his way. Stepping up onto the verandah though, the flicker of a television through the window caught his attention and he stepped over to glance inside. The room was in semi darkness but for the screen, glowing colours, casting mad shadows and shapes all over the place. Someone was watching cartoons.   
  
A dark figure on the sofa shifted an inch or two and he felt the saliva evaporate from his mouth as he made out Spike's white-blonde hair, his expression disturbingly self-satisfied, resting on his chest a fat baby. Dawn. Something was wrong with the picture though. The baby too still, the face next to it strangely wolfish in repose, lips smeared with a dark mess of something.  
  
Oh. Good...God.  
  
He was through the door in an instant, his eyes searching for a wooden missile even before his hand had closed over the baby's pale, plump little body. Silently, violently cursing himself for being so very, very stupid. Leaving a helpless infant in the care of a serial killer, what excellent judgment Rupert. Really, the Council will be impressed.  
  
Spike shot to his feet, eyes wild, his mouth hanging open in a grotesque scribble of red,  
  
"What the..."  
  
And then a siren wail that set every nerve end in his body jangling.  
  
"Bloody hell! I'd just finally got her off, you....prat!!!  
  
Screaming! She was screaming! Dawn was alive. And then, as she continued, growing puce in the face, almost found himself wishing she wasn't. His hands closed around her waist for a moment, attempting to placate her, before proffering her back to a glowering Spike. The vampire crossed his arms, a scarred eyebrow quirking as he stepped away and sunk down onto the sofa. Flicked the TV onto CNN.  
  
"Oh no, mate. You woke her, you can bleedin' keep her."  
  
A bawling child held out at arms length, Giles walked back through to the kitchen to find a barely recognisable Anya, hunched over the breakfast counter. Ringlets of sweaty blonde hair hung down around her pink face, a smear of something suspiciously brown on her cheek. Her eyes came up to greet him with relief,  
  
"Oh thank God, did you find the cure?"  
  
He took in the scene in the surrounding kitchen with alarm. Tins of fruit and macaroni cheese littered the linoleum like bullet casings, while a great streak of orange decorated one wall. As well as which, every item of the Summer's family crockery seemed to be precariously balanced on all available surfaces.  
  
"What on...earth have you been doing?"  
  
"Feeding them. Buffy's very picky, did you know that? What are you doing?"  
  
She stared back at him as if he was a complete idiot, before he realised that he was still holding Dawn out in front of him, like a bomb. He tried to remember the correct way to support her head ad legs but she felt ungainly and odd in his hands, not at all the way a baby should feel he was sure.  
  
"Give her to me."  
  
He passed the squawling bundle over to Anya and watched as the baby quietened almost immediately, responding to the demon's maternal confidence. Her superior smirk might have stung him if he hadn't been so grateful.  
  
"Where are the others?"  
  
"Spike played horses with them until they couldn't stand up any more. He'd make someone a wonderful au-pair you know? Although there might be a problem with references."  
  
A snort of laughter rose in Giles's throat but he quashed it, remembering his initial reaction to Spike's appearance.  
  
"What happened to his mouth?"  
  
"I think it's 'Harlot'. Willow and Buffy were giving him a make-over."  
  
She actually bustled and Giles didn't think he'd ever seen her bustle before. A noticeable sashay of her hips as she turned away from him in a businesslike way, Dawn tucked purposefully under one arm as she mounted the stairs. Mindlessly he followed, needing to visit the bathroom anyway before continuing his quest for Ethan's head. Spike shot him a warning look from the couch,  
  
"Oy...and don't wake any other of the little sods up either."   
  
he lifted a beer to his lips and scowled,   
  
"Bleeding energiser bunny's got nothing on them."  
  
"I'll try and be quiet."  
  
Anya hissed at him to do just that and for some reason he was reminded suddenly of Xander's parents. The surly Father with a bottle in his hand and his washed out Mom with her tired, defeat-filled eyes. He wondered what Adult Xander would make of such a comparison, grinned to himself as he realised that it would certainly explain his long-lived feelings of animosity towards Spike.  
  
At the top of this stairs he halted, removing his shoes to keep noise to a minimum, before tiptoeing the length of the corridor to Buffy's room. Inside the lights were dimmed, three identical lumps raising the coverlet of the double bed. Anya appeared from Dawn's room, minus the baby, wiping her hands on her make-shift apron.  
  
"Cried herself out. That's something I never thought I'd see Dawn do."  
  
They stood side by side for a moment, taking in the scene.  
  
"We should take pictures. That's what people do isn't it? When they see children doing something adorable?"  
  
Giles almost smiled before he remembered that this was far from a happy situation, for any of them. Without thinking, he removed his glasses and began to clean the lenses thoroughly.  
  
"You don't like babies, do you Giles?"  
  
Startled, he glanced across to see Anya looking at him a little curiously. She indicated his hands,  
  
"You only do that when you're nervous. Do you find babies repulsive?"  
  
He stuttered under her intimidating gaze, tired to think of a honest response,  
  
"Not repulsive, no. Just..."  
  
he struggled before giving in,  
  
"Just utterly terrifying."  
  
"Oh."  
  
It was the reaction he always had. From everyone. And it provoked the same prickle of shame and irritation that it always did. No one could ever understand it when you said that you didn't like babies. He remembered the many, many times friends, who were now proud parents, had held their children out to him, red faces contorted with crying and he had refused to take them, backing away. Mumbling all those platitudes that inhuman baby-hating brutes like he was, always did; 'I'm not very good with babies', 'My hands are cold' or the always effective 'I think I'm getting the flu'. The English loved their babies, loved to show them off, loved to press their damp, sticky little bodies into your unsuspecting laps, 'Ooh, she likes you' even when she patently, did not. He was obviously a freak.  
  
Women were the worst, he found. Their faces when he told them, said everything. Playful talk of the future inevitably turned to children and there, he always felt his intentions should be made clear. Both Buffy and Dawn had often asked him why he had not married. God, Joyce had even attempted to match-make with one of her dreary gallery friends. He had always told them the same thing. A Watcher's life was a lonely one. Like the Slayer, his role was secretive and solitary, with little room for anyone who didn't know the dangers. Because if they did know them, they wouldn't stay. What he never said was that, if they were to overcome their fears, thought he was worth it, then their dreams for the future would be shattered by his emotional shortcomings.  
  
Anya's voice cut through his thoughts, oddly gentle, surprised.  
  
"You're afraid of them?"  
  
She was probably the first person who'd ever said it out loud and not laughed at him. He replaced the frames on the bridge of his nose and pushing them back into place.  
  
"Perhaps. They seem so...fragile, don't they? So much responsibility. Parents want to hand them to you...and it's their whole future."  
  
shook his head,  
  
"How can you risk breaking that?"  
  
He gazed at the sleeping figures of his three charges and allowed himself a small smile. There was something maybe fitting that, through his role as Buffy's Watcher, he had gained the very family he had never allowed himself to create.   
  
"I'm sure a lot of people feel the same way, Giles. It's only natural."  
  
Anya's hand rested gently on his arm for a moment, as if reading his thoughts. Really, her capacity for human insight often surprised him.  
  
"You think so?"  
  
His eyes questioned her hopefully, but she ducked her head, frowning, looking back to the room.  
  
"No, not really. I just said it to make you feel better."  
  
Rolling his eyes in irritation Giles turned away to enter the bathroom when her hand arrested him again, this time a steely grip that would probably leave bruises. He prised her fingers away, grimacing with pain, before he noticed her expression.  
  
"What the matter?"  
  
" Listen."  
  
Her head was cocked to one side, straining and he found himself copying her stance. A moment passed and he felt a stir of impatience,  
  
"I can't hear anything."  
  
"Exactly. No breathing. They're not breathing."  
  
In two strides she was beside the bed, tearing back the coverlet. Three identical pillows stared back at them. A startled shout stuck in Rupert's throat as he realised the implication of such a deception. The Scoobies were really far too young have done this themselves. Anya face was a mask of maternal terror as she stood beside the bed, wringing the quilt between her hands, her green eyes wild with fear.  
  
"They're gone...they're all gone. Rupert...where would they go? There isn't a Toys 'R' Us for miles!"  
  
His eyes snapped at her but his voice was coldly calm.  
  
"I think it's safe to say Anya... that they've been kidnapped."  
  
"Kidnapped? Why would anyone want to kidnap them?"  
  
Lifting the lid of Buffy's weapons chest Giles selected the perfect interrogation aid and headed for the door.  
  
"I don't know. Bit I think it's a question I think I'm going to enjoy asking Ethan Rayne." 


	3. A Grin Without A Cat

He had been stupid. Very stupid.  
  
In the extreme confusion caused by the errant potion, Giles had forgotten to take into account another equally important aspect of his old friend's personality. Ethan was a master of misdirection. Rupert had assumed the youth spell was meant for him, because Anya had said as much, directed, of course, by Ethan.   
  
"He said it was a special roast...just for you".   
  
He had thought the Scoobies were unfortunate casualties of Rayne's retribution, but now, he knew otherwise. Ethan had some use for tiny, child-sized versions of the Slayer and her friends, and he was willing to wager that it wasn't as catalogue models.   
  
His mind worked, images clicking into place. Ethan's face as he had seen him in the alley way. Surprise and alarm, just before the out-and-out panic. He hadn't expected Giles to be there at all, in the Magic Box, in Sunnydale even. And why should he? There was no way he could have known anything about the wedding plans, about Rupert's arrival the night before. No one had known except the happy couple. And now he began to examine the memory, the van he had been driving, also jarred. A new, jet-black Mercedes with smoked windows. Not the sort of vehicle Ethan usually conveyed himself in. A rusted Camper was more his style. No. He frowned, and then the realisation washed through him like cold sea-water. Someone else was in control here. Someone else was funding Ethan Rayne's operation.  
  
He cursed silently. Why hadn't he asked himself these questions from the start? Of course though, it was hard to think clearly when you were surrounded by shrieking children and the smell of warm puke. There was no way the man could have escaped from a maximum-security, military prison without assistance of some kind. And, as his connections in America were nearly all demonic, it was fair to say that the British Consulate had probably not been involved. Ethan had, no doubt, bartered with someone shadowy, and assistance such as that rarely came without a price.  
  
Taking the stairs two at a time, Giles made purposefully for the front door only to find his way blocked by a extremely anxious and irritable looking vampire. Anya's cries of distress had brought Spike running, and now he wore the expression of someone ready and willing to take the responsible parties apart, piece by bloody piece.  
  
"You reckon this ex-mate of yours snatched them? Well, what the hell does he want them for?"  
  
Giles fixed him with a hard-eyed stare, reaching around him for the handle,  
  
"I don't know, but whatever it is I'm going to stop it."  
  
A deep, threatening growl rolled from Spike's chest and Rupert found himself taking a step backwards in alarm. He had never been on the receiving end of a real display of William The Bloody's temper, and he wasn't keen on the idea now. The vampire's eyes blazed a bright, azure blue, his pupils coal-dark points of blackness.  
  
"You mean we of course. We are going to stop him. That bastard's planning God knows what, with three people I happen to care about..."  
  
His stare flickered in intensity, as he reconsidered that last sentence, tilting his head to one side thoughtfully.  
  
"Well, actually one person I care about. Two I wouldn't piss on if they were on fire, but..."  
  
Giles ground his molars silently and reached again for the door.  
  
"I think I get the picture. Just go and get a weapon and hurry up about it."  
  
The vampire sprang for the stairs, and Giles's attention was snared by the figure of Anya, standing at the top. Her arms were wound possessively around the blanket-wrapped bundle that was Dawn, rocking the baby as she cried fitfully, her tiny hands clenching and unclenching in mid-air.  
  
"Find him, Giles."  
  
His eyes softened, wanting to reassure her with some words of calm, but, try as he might, nothing would come out. A hand swiped across her face and she fixed him with a teary gaze.  
  
"You just have to find him. You have to. He may be only two and half..."   
  
her eyes darkened, storm clouds gathering,  
  
"...but I swear to God, he's marrying me tomorrow even if it kills him."  
  
  
********************  
  
"Christ...you mean to say you actually paid money for this?"  
  
Spike's reaction to the hire-car was disturbingly restrained, and Giles realised that the vampire's concern really must be genuine. There was a time when he had believed that his affection for Buffy was simply a delusion, a demonic crush that bordered on obsession. But after her death, when he had proved himself time and time again to be their ally, he had been forced to reconsider. It had been difficult to accept that a creature such as a vampire could have genuine human emotions, but then Spike wasn't exactly your run-of-the-mill demon. He had fought for and won, his soul. That made him remarkable, and, in some people's eyes, maybe also granted him the right to be treated as a person. However, Giles was still not sure if he was one of those people.  
  
"So you know where this Rayne bloke's hiding out? Or are we just going to drive around until we hear bad guy music?"  
  
"I cast a locator spell at his hotel room. He's about three miles out of town due South-South-West. I should sense it when we're getting close to the location."  
  
Spike's eyes glowered at him in the light of the dash,  
  
"That was almost an hour ago. What makes you think he'll still be there?"  
  
Giles set his jaw grimly, jammed the car into drive and peeled away with a particularly unsatisfying squeal of tyres.  
  
"Every party we ever went to, Ethan always had to be thrown out hours after everyone else had gone home. Believe me when I say, he isn't going anywhere until this is over."  
  
********************  
  
The mansion looked oddly familiar from the rear, but it wasn't until he noticed Spike's troubled expression that he realised why. This had been Angel's home. The same building he had been taken to all those years before and subjected to hours of torture at the hands of Angelus. Even now he sometimes dreamt of that night, the exquisite burning agony as the red-hot wires were driven under his fingernails and the sickening smell of burning keratin. Despite all his resolve, he felt his nerve lose him for a moment at the thought of entering the place again.  
  
"Have to say...this mate of yours may be on the right track with the whole chaos-loving thing, but he's got shitty taste in real-estate."  
  
Spike's sharp-edged remark brought him back to his senses and he shot a quick glance at him, wondering if he'd somehow sensed his apprehension and was trying to make light of the situation. The vampire looked back at him calmly, before raising one eyebrow in a dry question mark.  
  
"So what's the big plan then, Watcher. As you're the boss an' all."  
  
What was the plan? He had to confess that he didn't have one exactly. Neither of them had any idea what kind of creature or creatures Ethan had allied himself with, or what kind of foe they might be facing. All they had between them were two rather impressive-looking axes, a sharp set of teeth and some borrowed magical power, that was spotty in it's effectiveness at best. Staring up at the daunting grey face of the old mansion though, Giles felt a familiar feeling overtake him, suffusing him with a cold determination that felt like a old friend. He smiled quietly to himself,  
  
"No plan."  
  
Spike blinked, the other eyebrow going upwards to match the first. Raised his voice in sudden exasperation,  
  
"Then forgive me for asking, mate...but what the bloody hell are we going to do?"  
  
He was surprised to note that the grey eyes that glinted back at him did not seem to be those of the Watcher's at all. Although he did recall having been faced with this particular Giles before, just after that incident with the Slayer and Dru. He'd said something flip, trying to make nice with the Scoobies, and had found himself slammed hard against the wall, the same steel gaze that had fixed him in place then, fixed him now. He was glad this time, not to be the one on the receiving end.   
  
"I don't know what you plan to do...but I plan on killing Ethan Rayne."  
  
  
  
********************  
  
The atmosphere inside was charged with magic.  
  
Even if Rupert hadn't been a man completely in tune with such powers, he was almost certain he would have been able to sense it. The air crackled, a smell like ozone rising from the very foundations of the building. Glancing behind him, he saw Spike shift uncomfortably, pressed back into the alcove nearest the doorway, and guessed he must be feeling it even more intensely than himself. Dark magic coud affect some demons in an almost physiological way. Concerned he attracted his attention but, although in obvious discomfort, the vampire met his gaze and gave a small nod at the question mark there. No. He was fine. They should keep going.   
  
Balancing the weight of his axe in both hands Giles edged forward again, further into the building. Whoever now owned the lease had done very little with the place since Angel's departure. No furniture or electrical lighting meant that the house had a vacant disused air. Thankfully, the rather self-conscious, neo-gothic architecture of the place provided excellent cover in the form of archways and pillars, and within a few minutes they had managed to make their way almost to the central chamber.   
  
The low humming tremor that had been barely discernible at the entrance, was suddenly almost intolerable. Gasping to draw breath, Giles jammed the knuckles of a fist into his sternum in an effort to control the vibration. He could feel the intensity of the magic inside the house all around him, and the sensation was an unsettling one.  
  
"You O.K?"  
  
Spike's voice was barely more than a whisper, but he batted it away impatiently. The lack of oxygen was making him feel lightheaded and horrifyingly weak, and he could feel the Ripper part of him giving way to the old man. In frustration, he closed his eyes and began repeating the lines of simple placatory liturgy Tara had once taught him. The words forced calm through his veins and slowly brought his body and mind back under complete control. He felt his head begin to clear, his heartbeat regulate, until at last he felt recovered enough to move on. With a glance to check that Spike was following, he moved into a hiding place behind one of the heavy blood-red, velvet curtains on one side of the chamber doorway. And, after a second or two to reassure himself that they could not be seen from inside, the vampire took the opposite one.  
  
Drawing back the edge of the drape, Giles found he could see the back of two standing figures. Both were seemingly human men, and both were identically and flawlessly attired in dark, tailored suits. Ordinarily, he thought, their appearance would have seemed perfectly normal, but in this atmosphere of dark magicks and gothic shadows, they were complete anachronisms. Obviously the 'power' that he had suspected was backing Ethan, was one that was cloaked in human respectability.   
  
A cry over to their right sent his head snapping round and, out of the corner of one eye, he saw Spike's do the same. A playpen was tucked away in the far corner of the room, a solitary male as sentry. Although it was half concealed by another curtain, Giles heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that all three of the children were visible inside. Whatever Ethan and his friends had planned for them, they had not set about it yet. Jerking his head over in their direction, Spike silently indicated his plan to circle round and Giles nodded his assent, pointing at the ground to show that he would keep watch. With a grim smile the vampire nodded and, snatching a quick glance up the corridor behind them, he turned and ducked out of sight.  
  
A woman's voice, it's source just out of Rupert's field of vision, spoke softly but clearly over the reverberating drone, and he craned his neck a few inches further forward in hope of catching sight of her face.  
  
"I said...does he have to do that?"  
  
He could just see her now. An attractive brunette, tall and slim with an assured, casual stance. As chicly and smartly dressed as the two men, she wore a simple jacket and short skirt which, Rupert could not help but notice, exposed a rather attractive long length of leg. Slightly to her left stood a figure he knew only too well. Tall, angular and dark haired Ethan's thin arms were neatly folded over his chest as he smiled reassuringly at his companion.  
  
"Yes, I'm rather afraid he does. It's all part of the procedure you see. Y'nrus has to tear a small hole in the fabric of our reality, and in order to do that he must create a temporal state of flux. Hence the very low vibration. "  
  
Y'nrus. The name struck a chord deep into him, and he fought to place it. Of course Ethan could be pronouncing it completely wrongly, it wouldn't be the first time, but he was almost certain that Y'nrus was the name of a Favrhah demon, a species well-known for their gun-for-hire attitude, as far as chaos was concerned. They were also, as the other man had just correctly asserted, renowned for their almost entirely unique ability to open dimensional portals and rifts.   
  
So Ethan and his stylish friend had engaged the services of a Favrhah demon? Giles felt his skin begin to crawl, as he wondered just who or what were they hoping to bring into this reality, and what the presence of the Slayer and her friends could possibly have to do with it. As he continued to watch them, the woman slowly raised her hands to her ears to cover them, before turning to attract Rayne's attention again with a sharp tap to the shoulder.  
  
"Does it...does he really have to be quite so...noisy, though?"  
  
Ethan's smile widened, his eyes flitting slowly back to the subject of their conversation.  
  
"My dear Lilah...the noise is half the fun." 


	4. Down The Rabbit Hole

Ethan Rayne.  
  
Just looking at the silent, grinning figure of his old friend inspired such violent feelings of hatred, Giles was suddenly grimly certain that killing him would be least of his problems. The small but significant hole in the fabric of reality, now appearing directly in front of them, was, however, a more thorny issue.  
  
Sitting cross-legged beneath it on the chamber floor, Y'nrus was cloaked in flowing blue robes. His head was bent low, almost into his lap, as he continued to chant, emitting the low resonant sound Giles now knew was a means of breaking through to another world. Whatever reason Ethan and his smartly dressed associates had for doing this, they had to be stopped. The rend was growing with every passing minute and, through the opening, Rupert caught sight of a dimension he was pretty sure wasn't one of the heavenly sort.   
  
Huge looping wraiths of fire cut across a red sky like livid scars, and the only landscape seemed to be nothing but black volcanic rock, jagged and unforgiving. The portal shifted and stretched and, for a second, he caught sight of something else. A gleaming black structure. A building that seemed to melt into the surrounding country with it's vicious, angular lines and towering supports. A modern day Keep, in a hell dimension.  
  
"There she is."  
  
The words left his lips in a sigh and Giles saw Rayne turn, smiling to his female counterpart.  
  
"Isn't she delicious?"  
  
Lilah lifted one eyebrow in an expression of dry amusement.  
  
"Sure. If you like that kinda thing. Me, I'd prefer a view of Miami Beach. But then I guess I'm old fashioned like that."  
  
Grinned maniacally, Ethan took a step or two forward, craning his neck as he tried to get a better look at the place.  
  
"Isn't she the most incredible thing you've ever seen though. She seems...to be growing there. The design is quite perfect, even though I say so myself."  
  
Rolling her eyes, Lilah took a step or two backwards. The heat escaping from the hole was powerful even at Giles' range and he felt beads of sweat breaking out on his brow. The young woman shed her jacket, draping it casually over one arm, and politely stifled a yawn.  
  
"Yeah, well...it certainly cost enough."  
  
"Money, my dear, is immaterial. A real home, however, is without price."   
  
Ethan's eyes glowed in the dimness of the room, reflecting the demonical orange light, and for the first time since he had known him, Giles felt a stir of real alarm. Rayne had always been obsessed with causing mayhem wherever he went, but now it seemed that he might actually be mad. The very idea of constructing a house, in order to actually live in a hell dimension, was unthinkable. From the little knowledge he had of them and the second-hand information Angel had given him on his return, he couldn't even begin to comprehend why a human-being might want to go to such a place. But for some reason Ethan wanted to, and had persuaded these shadowy people in suits to provide him with a residence. The price? Perhaps the life of the Slayer and her friends held some value for them, whoever they were.  
  
"Is this thing going to get any bigger?"  
  
Lilah's voice broke into his thoughts, the edge of weary apathy strangely at odds with the events taking place in front of them.  
  
"I have a three o'clock with the boss man, and believe me when I tell you he doesn't like to be kept waiting..."  
  
She glanced at her watch and then back at Ethan,  
  
"...so can we get on with this?"  
  
With a irritable stare, Ethan stepped forward and passed a hand through the opening, before bending to speak briefly to Y'nrus. Giles couldn't make out any words, but recognised from the expression on Rayne's face that he was threatening him. With a start, the demon shifted slightly in position, before increasing the volume of his chanting. Like a living creature, the dimensional-portal spat and writhed, and then began to stretch, until, within seconds it was as tall as a man. Turning to face Lilah, Ethan's eyes seemed almost black, cast into shadow by the glowing furnace behind him.  
  
"I'll say goodbye then, my dear. And my sincerest thank yous."  
  
He extended a hand, but the woman only looked at it, a sardonic smile touching the corners of her pretty mouth.  
  
"Ah, Ethan? Don't you think you're forgetting something?"  
  
He looked back at her, seeming puzzled,   
  
"Your hand luggage perhaps?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
Hellish colours lit the angles of his face as he quickly glanced behind her, shooting a questioning look to the two suited figures in silent attendance. They nodded, and Giles felt a cold prickle of fear as he suddenly realised exactly what luggage Ethan was planning to take with him.  
  
"I do hope the little dears are looking forward to spending some time with their Uncle Ethan."  
  
*********************  
  
Approaching the side of the playpen as stealthily as he knew how, Spike found himself fervently wishing to God and Buddha that he had never reclaimed his soul.   
  
The bloody thing made him feel, well - pathetic, and right now, when his mind should be firmly focussed on the job in hand? He was beset with all kinds of niggling little thoughts and fears, that he knew for certain never used to be there. William's soul made him fear pretty much anything dangerous, and, though he was loathe to admit it, it was a battle for the vamp side of his nature to overcome him. It had led to all sorts of problems of late, not least of which was his seeming inability to interact with Buffy any more. Spike still wanted to be with her, Spike still loved her, wanted her, craved her company night and day. William however, thought he knew best. Sometimes, it almost seemed as though he had his Mother back, the way the inner voice would suddenly interject and prevent him from doing anything that might be considered 'rash'. William thought he should give Buffy her space. William knew Spike had hurt her badly. William thought that, all in all, the Slayer was better off not consorting with the evil undead.   
  
Edging closer to that sweet, tiny, innocent-looking version of her, Spike couldn't help but agree. Buffy was better off without him. Sure, he could help out sometimes, even still save the Scoobies lives every now and again, but any kind of amicable relationship was out of the question now. He was a very bad man. And not one that anybody sane would trust with a toddler. Albeit a magically changed twenty-two year old one.  
  
A noise from the other side of the room snapped his head up. Ethan had bent down to speak to the demon guy in the blue cloak, and now the portal that had appeared a few minutes before was getting bigger. Sucking in a deep breath, Spike fought to control the panicky voice of his human soul who was telling him, quite needlessly of course, that time was of the essence, and snuck forward a few more steps. A small face appeared and, over the edge of the pen, he recognised the dark brown eyes of little Xander Harris, narrowed ever so slightly. Christ, was the bloke suspicious in the womb?  
  
"All right, mate? You be quiet for old Spike, will you?"  
  
The kid glowered and, raising one chubby fist above his face, he pointed a finger directly at him.  
  
"You're dead! Pow!!!"  
  
Rolling his eyes Spike made a quick grab for him with one hand, and bundled him up, squealing, under his arm. Clamping a hand briefly over his mouth he brought his face up on a level with his own. Xander stared back at him wide-eyed, as the vampire fixed him with black, cat-slitted pupils.  
  
"I said quiet mate, and I meant it."   
  
Willow was next, and harder to grip for some reason, much squirmier. She kept trying to slip away sideways and, by the time he finally got hold of her, Buffy was giggling uncontrollably. The noise was piercing and he prayed no one else could hear her. As he reached out a hand towards her, she backed away, giving him the familiar grin that said 'can't catch me'. He found impatience starting to get the better of him and, for just a split second, thought he knew exactly how single mums must feel. Next time he saw one with that look on their face, he'd cut her some slack. Biting his lip in frustration, he made a lunge.  
  
"Buffy!! Will you...bloody well...cut it out and come here!!"   
  
She froze, and he cursed himself inwardly. He'd frightened her, and right now a terrified kiddie was all he needed. Glancing over to check again on Rayne and his pals, he forced his expression into what he hoped was one of kind tolerance and he tried to smile.  
  
"C'mon Buffy. Sweetheart. Come to Spike, there's my girl. We're going to..."  
  
he fumbled desperately, darting little looks over one shoulder. He could see movement, someone was coming this way.  
  
"...we're going to Baskin and Robbins..."  
  
Her eyes lit up a little, and he swallowed hard as he heard voices approaching.   
  
"C'mon, we'll eat so much ice-cream that we'll puke."  
  
His finger tips went out, and he watched as she shyly reached for them. Just a split second more, and they probably would have made it. As it was, a blow to the back of his head sent him staggering heavily forward. He whirled round to face his assailants but, on doing so, found himself instantly immobilised. Ethan's hand was stretched out towards him, palm flat, holding him magically frozen and he struggled impotently as both Rayne and his companion started to smile.  
  
"And just who, pray, who do we have here?"  
  
***********  
  
The sound of Spike's colourful invectives, accompanied by the high pitched wailing of three small children, sent Giles' heart spiralling to his boots. Gripping the handle of his axe tightly, he peered through the gap in the curtains to see the vampire being towed bodily across the room by the two suited heavies. Ethan, carrying Buffy, followed behind, while Lilah gingerly held the hands of two remaining Scoobies.   
  
"Get the fuck away from them Rayne. You hurt them...and I swear I'll rip your throat out!"  
  
Whatever Spike was threatening, he wasn't going to deliver, as it was obvious that he was under some kind of powerful immobility spell. Giles gritted his teeth as he realised that, once again, it was all going to come down to him. If only he could think what on earth he should do.   
  
Ethan intended to take the children with him, through the portal, presumably to live with him, in a residence that had been constructed by these people for that very purpose. It had taken a truly twisted imagination to come up with such a concept but, try as he might, he still couldn't understand the reasoning behind it. To take small children to live in such a place was insanity. A human being raised in a hell dimension would be a monster, and a Slayer raised there...  
  
Even as the idea came to him, he could barely believe it was the truth, but suddenly everything slotted into place. Turning the Slayer into a baby hadn't been just one of Ethan Rayne's devilish pranks, but a carefully orchestrated scheme to gain control of the Slayer. Time moved differently in these places. Angel had been in his hell for over a hundred years, in Sunnydale time - only a matter of months. It would only be a short time before The Slayer had grown to adulthood again. Only this time it wouldn't be as the beloved only daughter of a loving family, but as the captive pupil of a diabolical madman. Blinking in total disbelief, Giles took another long look through the gaping hole that hung, sparking and shifting in the air. A Slayer raised on hate, in a world such as that, would be a terrible creature indeed. No, Ethan Rayne would have to be stopped. Preferably fatally.  
  
Straightening his back, he found himself inwardly summoning the Ripper before pulling back the heavy curtain. Ethan was still facing away from him, but the brunette Lilah spotted him at once, perfectly shaped eyebrows arching in surprise. Her lips parted slightly, and recognition brightened in her eyes as she extended a slim elegant hand.  
  
"And you would be...Mr. Giles I presume?" 


	5. Which Dreamed It?

For a long moment, Giles stared at the young woman's perfectly manicured nails, before calmly and with deliberate slowness, raising his eyes to meets hers.  
  
"I would say that it was a pleasure to meet you, but that somehow seems unlikely, doesn't it?"  
  
Lilah's smile widened, and the proffered hand was withdrawn with a hint of amusement. When she spoke again, her voice was polite and formal, businesslike.   
  
"I'm so sorry to hear that, Mr. Giles. I've heard such a lot about you."  
  
The words sounded less threatening, more flirtacious, but then maybe he was underestimating her. One glance at the sycophantic leer Ethan was directing her way, confirmed his earlier suspicions that it was this woman, not his old friend, who wore the trousers in this particular partnership. So who in hell was she? If he hadn't known better, he would have assumed by her palpable air of self-importance and complete lack of emotion, that this young woman was a....but no. That was ridiculous.   
  
Shifting the axe he was carrying to shoulder height, Giles let his gaze slide past her shoulder. Ethan's hand was still firmly wrapped around the infant Buffy's wrist, and he could tell by the light sheen of sweat covering his brow that, unless he was very careful, the man might very well do something rash. The temporal portal was mere feet away, and a sudden dash in that direction might be extremely difficult to curtail.   
  
"Whatever statement you were hoping to make with that, I presume is now moot."  
  
Smiling at him pleasantly, Lilah motioned for one of Spike's captors to take the weapon and, after a moment or two, he conceded. The axe wasn't the only weapon he'd brought, just the most obvious. Besides, the two men in suits looked only too capable of mindless brutality, and the way Lilah now rested her hands proprietorally on Willow and Xander, left him in no doubt she shared the same moral code.  
  
"The vampire? Also part of the rescue party I take it?"  
  
He saw Spike's struggle in frustration as he fought against the spell holding him, and he frowned. To be executed whilst held immobile, seemed like an ignominious end for a vampire who'd lived as long as Spike had. Despite himself, he felt a sudden stab of regret that he'd allowed him to come along at all and, as if agreeing with him, Lilah shook her head.  
  
"I must say, I find your choice of allies...questionable. For a member of illustrious Council of Watchers, I mean."  
  
Finding Ethan's eyes, Giles held them for a second before moving back to the young woman's.  
  
"I could say the same thing."  
  
Lilah continued, barely acknowledging his comment.   
  
"Although, it seems to have become an occupational hazard."   
  
Raising an eyebrow, she smiled icily, before motioning for the two men to restrain him.   
  
"You should gave Wesley a call, you know. He could probably do with hearing a friendly voice right now."  
  
Keeping his gaze firmly fixed now on Ethan, Giles did not resist, stubbornly refusing to betray any sign of his discomfort as the larger of the two lackies took his upper arms in an uneccessarily painful grip. His old friend's eyes darted uneasily between his and the opening, before taking a hesitant step towards it.  
  
"So it seems like this is goodbye, old man. I'm sorry it had to come down to this, but well...."  
  
he shrugged, flashing him an insane grin,  
  
"...evil you see!!"  
  
He tightened his grip on the infant Buffy's hand, and the little girl let out a high-pitched wail of fear.  
  
"Owwoooowww....hurting me!!!"  
  
A deep-throated growl brought every head round in the direction of the vampire.  
  
"I told you..."  
  
Spike's eyes flashed blue fire as his struggles suddenly doubled in strength,  
  
"You...don't...fucking....touch her!!!"  
  
Under the renewed onslaught, the field holding him seemed about to weaken and watching, Lilah sighed, rolling her eyes in exasperation.  
  
"Will one of you please shut that guy up?"  
  
Producing a stake, Giles' captor turned swiftly to comply, and then everything seemed to happen at once.   
  
Now completely furious, the infant Buffy directed a viciously well-aimed kick at Ethan's shin and, as the magician yelled out in pain, balled up a tiny fist and punched as hard and as high as she could reach. The resulting howl of anguish produced enough of a distraction for Giles to reach into his inside pocket and, before anyone could move to stop him, he had thrown the dusty contents full force towards Spike. A blue flash signalled the dissolution of the restraining spell, and the vampire leapt forward, violently knocking together the heads of both of his captors. Reeling backwards, he let out a shout of pain and clutched at his head.  
  
"Ow! Jesus, Rupert!! 'Fuckers are human!"  
  
Giles gritted his teeth, and made a lunge for Ethan Rayne.  
  
"No, Spike. I think they're lawyers."  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
Lilah moved quickly. Dragging the two other children behind her, she moved towards the temporal opening, reached down to grasp Willow and then lifted her to head height. A shout of warning from Spike brought Rupert's head round, and his fist froze in mid-punch. His other hand loosened it's grip, allowing Rayne to slide to the ground with a soft moan, still clutching his groin. Straightening up, Giles' expression hardened into one of cool ruthless calm. He took a single step towards her.  
  
"If I were you...I'd put her down. Now."  
  
For a second, the young woman's eyes betrayed her fear, and she moistened her lips, pupils darting sideways towards the exit.  
  
"How about this? I trade you...these two..."  
  
She indicated the trembling Buffy, now holding onto Spike's legs with both hands,  
  
"...for your one."  
  
Giles raised an eyebrow, regarding her levelly.  
  
"And why would I do that?"  
  
Lilah smiled, a little of her confidence returning.  
  
"Because if you don't...these two little darlings are going to be enjoying My Very First Hell-Dimension...alone."  
  
She swung the tiny figure of Willow a little closer to the portal, and Giles watched as the hellish colours illluminated the screaming child's face. He shot a glance at Spike, and saw an expression of anguish mixed with fury flit across the vampire's face. Lilah cleared her throat.  
  
"It's your call Rupert, but I've got to tell you...this one's a lot heavier than she looks."  
  
She let her hands slip an inch or two, and Willow's resulting shriek as her toes touched the sparking edge of the hole made his throat constrict. He glanced at Spike again, and then back at Lilah.  
  
"All right." he said.  
  
Swinging Buffy up into his arms, the vampire advanced on him in anger.  
  
"Are you out of tiny mind, Watcher?!! They might not want to kill her, but they sure as hell aren't going to be buying her a pony! My guess is they're taking her through that portal to raise her up as their own."  
  
Rupert kept his gaze firmly fixed on Lilah.  
  
"I know."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes, unconsciously resting a protective hand on the back of the Buffy's head.  
  
"Then excuse me for asking mate...but what the bloody hell are you playing at?"  
  
The look in the Watcher's eyes was colder than any he'd ever seen before as he reached out a hand towards him.  
  
"Just give her to me, Spike."  
  
Lilah watched in amusement as the two men faced each other down. This vampire was a strange one, holding onto the Slayer as if he felt actual affection for her. It was behaviour bizarre enough to be worthy of Angel.  
  
"If you don't mind, I think we'd all like to get this over with."  
  
To her left, Ethan climbed painfully to his feet, still bent in half with pain. He grinned wolfishly, as he scrambled to recapture little Xander's hand,  
  
"Yes! I'm rather anxious to be getting home. Let's hurry this up shall we, Ripper? If it's any consolation, I can assure you Buffy will be treated with the utmost care and consideration."  
  
Giles' eyes remained emotionless as he stared back at him.  
  
"You're a madman, Ethan."  
  
"Oh yes...."  
  
Rayne smiled winningly,  
  
"...but I can assure you, I am also a fully trained childcare technician."  
  
Turning to Spike again, Giles reached out his hands.  
  
"Spike."  
  
Opening his mouth, the vampire seemed just about to form an obscene retort, when the most unsettling thing happened. The Watcher spoke to him again, only this time the voice was disturbingly loud, and confined only to his head. And God, he hated telepathy.  
  
Cradling the snivelling Buffy in his arms, Rupert walked slowly towards Lilah, being careful to keep Ethan always in plain sight. He saw a faint smile touch the woman's lips as he came to stop in front of her and placed the child, still sobbing softly, on the ground.  
  
"All right. Just let them both go."  
  
Releasing Xander's hand, Ethan grabbed for Buffy's and grinned in surprised delight when Rupert made no move to stop him. The tiny Harris paused a second before breaking into a stumbling run towards Spike who picked him up, frowning as he examined his grubby face for bruises. Lilah quirked an eyebrow, slowly lowering her burden to the floor,  
  
"You have him very well trained, I must say."  
  
She continued to hold the child's hand tightly, as Willow strained towards Giles, her eyes huge and luminously green with tears.  
  
"What did you use? A mind control spell? I hear they work very well on vampires."  
  
Reaching out, Giles smiled personably at her,  
  
"No. I just told him that if he behaved...I'd let him kill you himself."  
  
  
A wide arc of blue-green light forked from Willow's hand to his, lighting both their faces with an unearthly glow and, as if plucked up by an unseen hand, Lilah and Ethan were thrown violently backwards. Sweeping Buffy up under one arm, Spike carried both she and Xander back out of harm's way, before turning around to watch the spectacular finale.   
  
Blinding azure and emerald light surrounded the Watcher and his small female companion as they advanced slowly, hand in hand, on the dazed forms of the two conspirators. Spike strained to hear Rupert's voice over the crackling of their combined magicks as he leant to speak to the tiny Willow.  
  
"Thse two have been very naughty, haven't they?"  
  
A small frown creased the witch's face and she rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, before nodding.  
  
"Yes."  
  
The Watcher nodded in agreement.  
  
"Well, it's up to you Willow. Do you think they should be punished?"  
  
Ethan's eyes were wide with horrified disbelief, as he looked from one face to the other. He grinned nervously, desperately.  
  
"You don't want to hurt Uncle Ethan, do you sweetpea? I bought you peanut M&Ms, remember? And...and I picked out all the green ones!  
  
Frowning, Willow glanced up at Giles, before delivering her final verdict.  
  
"Lets make them both into slugs."  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
"And did you?"  
  
Anya's voice was full of hope, her eyes shining at the thought of such a just vengeance exacted on her behalf. She paused in her rough towelling of little Xander's hair, preventing his escape attempt with one finger hooked in the elastic of his pyjamas. Looking up from a table almost entirely covered with spell ingredients, Giles sighed, before gently wresting Willow's fingers from his eye-glasses. He reached into his pocket for a clean hankerchief and polished them.  
  
"Oh...yes. But it'll wear off. In a few years."  
  
Snorting with disgust, the ex-demon swiftly completed her task and, with a gentle slap to his bottom, let Xander go. Immediately he fell to his knees and grabbed a fistful of Willow's hair. A high-pitched shriek split the air.   
  
Anya sighed, and ran a hand backwards through her hair.  
  
"And what about this? I mean...are you almost done yet?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
Giles glanced up from the text he'd appropriated from Ethan, and raised his eyebrows questioningly, before realising he had in fact heard the question.  
  
"What? Oh...yes...almost."  
  
Dropping a single salamander eye into the mixture, he pushed his glasses further back on the bridge of his nose.  
  
"Er....yumŽ no y— na mah—....nigŽdasu!"  
  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
"Again! Again!!"  
  
Smiling indulgently, Spike flipped Buffy over into a sitting position for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening. Shaking his head, he squinted as she grinned back at him, all peach-skinned, newly-bathed delight, dressed only in Dawn's pink bunny pyjama-bottoms.  
  
"You can't want to, love. You'll throw up. Again."  
  
Gripping his hands more tightly, her eyes flashed green fire at him.  
  
"Again!!!!" she demanded.  
  
He sighed, almost smirked.  
  
"Bloody hell...you're Buffy all right. O.K, but this is very last time."  
  
Taking hold of her wrists, he raised her up on his knees before dropping her, squealing, swiftly and unceremoniously downwards.  
  
"This is the way the old man rides,  
Clippety Cloppety, Clippety Cloppety,  
This is the way the old man rides,  
Clippety Cloppety....  
Down in the ditch!!"   
  
A flash of electric blue light, and the thick cloying smell of cordite and magicks choked him for a moment, before the smoke cleared. Buffy's surprised face stared back at him through the mist, long golden hair falling in waves over her bare shoulders.  
  
"What the hell just happened? Spike, why are you...?"  
  
It was only by a supreme act of will that he managed to keep his mouth from dropping open, his eyes, however, seemed oblivious to his brain's commands. Glancing briefly upwards, he saw Buffy's frown, seconds before the deep flush of red made it from her cheeks down to her glorious honey-coloured breasts.  
  
"Spike, you sonofa ....!!"  
  
Oddly though, he never saw her fist coming.  
  
THE END 


End file.
